


Redemption: Episode 1—Once a Future Thing

by CaptainPeace820



Series: Redemption: The Series [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Gen, Hilarity Ensues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24889390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainPeace820/pseuds/CaptainPeace820
Summary: Inspired by the 1986 TV series "Outlaws".After helping Micah Bell escape Strawberry, Arthur returns to camp just as a storm approaches. As they endure the bad weather, a bolt of lightning strikes their campsite and sends the gang into a foreign land—the 21st Century. Now over a hundred years in the future, the gang is left with no choice but to survive in this strange new time. Along the way they meet new friends—and new enemies—as they begin to make their mark in 2019. But do these 19th century outlaws have what it takes?
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Van der Linde Gang
Series: Redemption: The Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800997
Comments: 15
Kudos: 47





	1. A Stormy End...

Somedays Arthur Morgan felt as if he was constantly being pulled in several directions by his makeshift family. Whether it's helping Reverend Orville Swanson get back to camp safely, getting into a bar fight with the largest and ugliest bastard in Valentine, saving Sean MacGuire from a gang of bounty hunters, or even helping little Lenny Summers relax after narrowly escaping the law in Strawberry, it seems that whenever Arthur thinks he has a free moment to breath another member of the gang approaches him and asks for his assistance.

And now, after begrudgingly helping Micah Bell, one of the most irritating and reckless members of their little “family”, escape from Strawberry’s law enforcers in the middle of a storm, all Arthur wants is to return to the relative safety of the gang’s camp, eat some of Pearson’s stew, before going to his tent and sleep for the next couple of hours.

“So you ain’t headed back to Dutch?” he asked Micah, raising his voice over the loud claps of thunder.

“No, I’ve been a bad boy, Arthur.” Micah said, briefly patting his horse, Baylock, before looking up. “I ain’t seeing Dutch till I bring him a peace offering.” As Baylock reared a bit, he looked back at the gang’s lead enforcer and gave a small “Bye now.” before heading towards his camp past Strawberry.

Watching his fellow gang member ride until he couldn’t see him again, Arthur shook his head before turning his Tennessee Walker, Barkley, in the general direction of camp. “Let’s go boy.”

Less than an hour later Arthur approached the thin tree line that hid the Van der Linde Gang’s camp from prying eyes. As both him and his horse made their way down the small dirt path leading towards camp they suddenly heard a voice shot from behind one of the trees, “Who’s there?!”

Recognizing the gruff tone anywhere, Arthur shouted at the top of his lungs. “It’s me, Bill. You dumbass.”

The heavy set figure of Bill Williamson came out from behind the trees, his Bolt Action Rifle held in his hands and lowered. Scoffing, he looked up at Arthur. “It’s ‘bout time you got here, Morgan. Was beginning to think that you and Micah got into trouble at Strawberry. Where is he anyway?”

“That bastard is heading towards a camp he set up near Strawberry. Says he will come back to camp with a ‘peace offering’ for Dutch as a way of apologizing. But that idiot! I swear, anything involving Micah Bell somehow seems to lead to disaster.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that when I came to rescue his sorry ass Micah decides that his guns were more important than getting out of town alive. Damn fool had me join him on a rampage, killing almost half of Strawberry, just to get his guns.”

Bill whistled. “Damn.”

“Yep.” Arthur said before another blast of thunder erupted over them. Looking up both men noted the dark clouds hovering over them and the short bursts of lightning arcing within the clouds. “Look like ol’ Mother Nature is fixing to unleash a hell of a storm. We better get back to camp before the rain starts to really pour.”

“I hear ya, Arthur.” agreed Bill.

They both approached the center of the camp where they witnessed a bunch of activity taking place. John Marston and Charles Smith were helping Simon Pearson load all of their food into Pearson’s wagon, Susan Grimshaw had the women putting all of their clothes and washboard into their wagons, Leopold Strauss and Lenny were packing all of the gang’s medical supplies in the back of Strauss’ wagon, while Sean and Javier Escuella were loading all of the ammunition and guns the gang had into the back of Arthur’s wagon. Even Kieran Duffy, the former O’Driscoll, was helping by moving the horses to a spot under the large oak.

Arthur was impressed. “Guess Dutch isn’t taking any chances with this storm rolling.” he commented.

Just then Kieran spotted both men entering and made his way over to Arthur. “Arthur, Dutch says to get inside. I’ll put your horse with the others.”

“Who are you to be giving him orders, O’Driscoll?” sneered Bill, shooting the man with a hard glare.

“I keep telling you,” Kieran said, his voice sounding tired. “I’m not an O’Driscoll.”

“Would you two not do this. We have bigger problems right now than a petty argument between you two.” Arthur ordered, getting off Barkley and handing her reins to Kieran. “Bill go and see if Sean and Javier need any help loading the ammunition. Then get everyone in the wagons.”

“You got it Arthur.” Kieran said, grateful for the man’s interruption and lead Ghost to where the other horses were.

Bill narrowed his eyes for a moment before relenting. “All right, Morgan.”

Arthur walked towards Dutch’s tent, opening the flap to see his two father-figures standing by the Dutch’s phonograph, young Jack Marston sitting on one side of Dutch’s cot, Uncle napping on the floor and, surprisingly, Josiah Trelawny sitting on the other side of the cot.

“Arthur.” Dutch van der Linde, his first father-figure, greeted.

“Dutch. Hosea. Josiah.” greeted the enforcer.

Trelawny smiled at Arthur. “Fancy seeing me again, Arthur.”

“Of course. After we last saw you, I thought you were going to hold up in some fancy hotel, or at least at the small inn in Valentine.”

“Well, I decided to stop by and see how everyone was after we rescued dear Sean from those bounty hunters. When we saw the storm, old Dutch offered to let me stay with you lot until it passed.” the English con man explained.

“Of course he did.” Arthur said, shaking his head before looking at his two father-figures. “How are things looking?” asked Arthur.

“Fine. Everything’s almost packed. Once all of our supplies are stored, we’ll wait out the storm in the wagons until the weather clears.” Hosea Matthews answered.

Just as he finished speaking another bolt of lightning erupted overhead, lighting the skies above the camp, followed by thunder three seconds later. The noise was so loud it startled Uncle awake. “Wh-What’s going on?!”

“Storm’s getting closer.” noted Dutch.

“Are-Are we going to be okay?” Looking down, Arthur looked at Jack who had began to curl himself and wrapped his arms over his legs in fright.

Kneeling down to the four-year-old’s eye level, Arthur offered Jack a small smile. “Oh, don’t worry Jack. Everything will be just fine. Once your ma and pa are done with putting our supplies in the wagons they’ll come in and keep you safe until the storm’s over.”

“You-You’re sure, Uncle Arthur?” asked Jack.

“I’m sure.” assured the older man.

Eventually all of the gang’s supplies were loaded into the wagons and everyone hopped into the wagons. While it was a little crowded for them, everyone was happy to no longer risk being outdoors during the storm.

“How long do you think the storm will last?” Mary-Beth Gaskill asked, seated next to Karen Jones; Tilly Jackson, Molly O’Shea, and Sadie Adler sat across from them in their wagon.

“Hard to say for certain,” Charles called out, looking at the dark clouds hovering above them. “Could be an hour or it could be all night. Only Mother Nature knows for certain.”

“Yeah, well I wish she would stop soon.” Karen said, gripping a bottle of beer in her right hand.

Suddenly a large bolt of lightning struck the dead tree behind Pearson’s wagon, igniting the dead wood in an instant. The horses were spooked by both the noise and the flames, rearing up and attempted to jerk their reins from the hitches Kieran had placed under the oak, attempting to escape from the scene.

“Oh, God, the horses!” Kieran shouted. He quickly grabbed his hat and coat and was about to jump out of the wagon when he was pulled back by Arthur.

“Don’t be a fool!” the enforcer exclaimed.

“Let go of me!”

Just then the group heard a horses cry. Abigail stuck her head outside and gasped. “Barkley’s free!”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “What!?” he cried out. Looking outside, he could see his horse racing into camp, rearing up and frightfully neighing. “Shit!” Jumping out of his wagon, Arthur ran towards Barkley, much to the shock of everyone present.

“Arthur! Get back to the wagon!” shouted Dutch.

“It’s too dangerous, Arthur! Get inside!” Hosea called.

Arthur ignored their calls as he began to approach his horse slowly, trying to act calm despite the circumstances. “Shh. It’s okay, boy. Easy. Easy.”

Slowly the Tennessee Walker began to calm down and no long rearing up in fright, though Arthur could tell that he was still spooked by the storm. “That’s it boy. Just calm down.” Slowly reaching until his hands wrapped themselves around the horse’s reins, Arthur continued to comfort his four-legged companion. “That’s a good boy.”

However, before Arthur could coax the horse back to the others, another clap of thunder roared over them, followed by a crack of lightning that struck outside of the gang’s camp. This startled Barkley again and caused him to begin rearing up, this time with Arthur holding onto the reins.

“Arthur be careful!” John called out, watching the entire scene in front of him.

“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing!” shouted Arthur, holding onto the reins while trying to calm Barkley down.

Everyone in the wagons watched with fright as Arthur wrestled with his horse and tried to calm him down. Meantime, while there attention was focused around the man and horse, no one noticed the lightning flashing between the clouds glowing brighter and brighter.

“Easy! C’mon Barkley, work with me will you!” Arthur shouted. He knew that he shouldn’t be yelling at the horse but with the storm blasting above them it was impossible for the Tennessee Walker to hear him if he tried to speak softly.

Just then Barkley began to rear up on his back legs again and flailed his front legs in the air. Everyone in camp was startled: if Arthur didn’t get away from that horse then one of the his legs would most likely hit him in the head and possibly kill him!

“Arthur!” John cried.

“Son!” Dutch shouted, his face stricken with fear as he and Hosea watched.

It was at that moment, as it seemed that the horse would strike Arthur in the head, that a stray bolt of lightning struck where Arthur was.

The entire area was filled with a blinding light, bolts of lightning encircling the camp and the horses. Arthur could only stand there, stunned, his legs gave out from under him and his mind began to spin. Before he fell completely to darkness, Arthur, for the first time in his life, prayed to God that it would all be over soon.

* * *

Micah was livid as he rode out towards the gang’s hideout.

Three days after the incident in Strawberry he waited for any of his fellow gang members to ride out and help him with the stage robbery that he had planned. Sean, Charles, Bill, hell he would’ve settled for even Arthur. Any of them would’ve been perfect in helping him execute his plans.

And yet none of them even showed up.

Impatience getting the better of him, he put his saddle on Baylock and began riding out towards Horseshoe Overlook. After almost two hours of riding, periodically stopping to rob a random rider who had the misfortune to be going down the same road as he was, he reached the outskirts of the camp.

“Hello!” he called out, letting the person who was on guard duty that he had arrived.

However no one responded to his call.

“Hey, anyone out there!” he bellowed, frustrated. When he didn’t hear anyone responding, he decided to head in and see why no one was on duty.

“Dutch! Everyone! It’s Micah!” he shouted from the top of his lungs. What the hell was everyone doing?

It was when he had reached the campgrounds that Micah was greeted by a sight he didn’t expect:

_The entire camp, everything that they had—Dutch’s tent, all the wagons, the hitching posts for the horses, the two large tables everyone used—and everyone who lived there, was gone!_

He got off his horse and approached the site, slowly. The entire area was completely barren of any activity or life. The only remnants that there was any human activity at all in the area was were the remains of the two campfires they had.

“What the hell happened here?” Micah asked himself, bending down to check the closest campfire.

“That’s what we’d like to know Mr. Bell.” said a voice behind him. With fast reflexes the blonde man drew his pistols and quickly turned around. It was then he received another surprise.

Standing under the large oak tree the gang used to shade their horses were two gentlemen. One of them was a tall, lanky man while the other was more stocky with a large mustache above his lip. But what really captured the outlaw’s attention was the sawed-off shotgun in the stocky man’s hands and the badges pinned on their suits.

He’d recognized them anywhere.

“Mr. Milton. Mr. Ross.” Micah said, lowering his guns though he didn’t holster them. As the two men approached him, he then asked, “What the hell is going on?”

Agent Andrew Milton looked at his fellow Pinkerton before looking at the outlaw. “Like I said before, that’s what we’d like to know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> This story is one I wrote on Fanfiction over a year ago...God, I can't believe its already been that long. So many things have happened since I last posted anything, my new job included, and with all of this Coronavirus stuff and the protests all over America...well, you get the idea. Hopefully now, I might be able to get back on track. But we'll see...
> 
> Normally, I don't talk (or write) about current events or problems in my Fanfiction, but today I will make an exception. I am truly disappointed with everything that's been happening lately. People are scared, and rightly so. If the thought of catching this virus is frightening, then the news about the riots must really make them want to crawl under their beds.
> 
> Just to state right here and now, while I do agree with the protestors emphasis on racial equality and fighting against police brutality, I am not a supporter of them going out and destroying cars, breaking into stores and looting everything that's not nailed down, and throwing firecrackers into crowds. Martin Luther King Jr. and Gandhi were able to get their messages about peace and equality without the use of violence, and I want to believe that we can to.
> 
> As someone once said, "If you fight with hate than the only response you'll get is more hate. But if you fight with love, eventually, people will respond with love." Now that might sound like a load of poop to some of you, but I like to think there is some merit to these words.
> 
> And in regards to this Coronavirus stuff...as a person who was diagnosed with the Swine Flu during the 2009 pandemic I understand the fear. I know a lot of folks are worried and the death tolls they show on the news doesn't exactly calm the minds of the people of the world. But, as long as we stick together, while doing everything in our power to stay save, then I truly believe that humanity as a whole will get through this together. We managed to get through the Swine Flue Pandemic, so this Coronavirus shouldn't stop us as well!
> 
> Thank you all, and I hope that together we'll all get through this.


	2. Dawn of a New Era

He couldn’t help but feel a bit of fear. Everywhere he looked was darkness, as if he was wandering outside on a moonless night without a lantern to help him see what was in front of him.

 _Was this Hell?_ he thought as he tried to find anything in the darkness.

Suddenly, he heard a faint voice calling out from a random direction. Getting his bearings, he followed the voice towards its source. As he got closer he began to hear it a bit more clearly: “—thur? Arthur? C’mon, Arthur, wake up!”

Arthur slowly began to open his eyes. As his eyelids rose, he quickly shut them again, flinching at the sudden brightness that pierced the darkness. Blinking until his eyes began to adjust to the sudden brightness, the man felt a figure loom over him and looked up.

John was slightly relieved when Arthur’s eyes began to look up towards him. “You alright?”

“Just dandy.” groaned Arthur, suddenly feeling incredibly sore, as if he had been laying down for hours.

John snorted at the older man’s words and began helping him up. “C’mon. Don’t die on us just yet.”

“Oh, very funny,” the gang's enforcer grunted. As he was pulled up he asked what had happened to Barkley.

"He's over there, back with the rest of the horses." John replied.

As Arthur looked at where the horses were he suddenly noticed something. “What the—the sun’s up?”

Indeed, the sun was currently rising over the mounds and hills that made up Twin Stack Pass. If both men had to guess from the sun’s position it was just after ten o’clock.

“What the hell?” John muttered, disbelief clear in his voice. He was so busy checking on Arthur that he didn’t notice that night had suddenly turned to day. But now that Arthur pointed it out he was taken back with surprise.

Before they could say anything further both of them heard the collective groans of their gang from within the wagons and quickly went over to check on them. Both Arthur and John breath a sigh of relief when they discover that everyone was alright and had already started to wake up.

Hosea was the first one to speak. “Oh my...what happened?”

“I wish I knew, old man.” Arthur said, helping the old man onto his feet before moving to see how Dutch was doing. “You alright, Dutch?”

“I’m—I’m fine, Arthur.” groaned the dark-haired gang leader, starting to get up on his own legs.

“At least one of us is feelin’ alright.” was Sean’s response as he wandered towards the men holding his head with his left hand. “I feel as if I had one too many cases of beer. Damn, near tripped outta the wagon when John woke me.”

“How’s that different from every other day?” retorted Arthur.

“Oh! Funny English! Really funny.”

“Will you two knock it off,” said Hosea, “and will someone please explain what is going on?”

“I think everyone wants to know that.” Pearson said, as everyone in camp began to gather around the eldest members of the gang. They all noticed Arthur and quickly stated how relieved they were to see he was alright but then the conversation turned towards the mystery of what had happened to them that caused them to suddenly black out during the night.

Dutch, after regaining his bearings looked around the camp before addressing everyone. “Everyone. Now I know that we all want answers. Believe me, I want answers as well. But the important thing is that we are okay. Arthur, thank God, is none the worse even after almost getting his ass whooped by his own horse.” he said, drawing chuckles from some of the gang.

Arthur rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. Making light of a situation and even throwing some humor out towards the crowds was one of the ways Dutch often did to diffuse tension among the various members of their "family". While he was not used to being the butt of a joke, he was willing to endure his pride a bit if it meant everyone would calm down.

“But now that the storm is over,” continued Dutch, “it is time for everyone to get back to work.”

“Get back to work, but remember to stay out of trouble.” Hosea added, although he somewhat doubted that it would stay that way for too long. Even if they managed to evade the law for now, with the personalities of some of the gang, like Bill or Sean, chances were that trouble would eventually find them and they would inevitably have to deal with it.

As people began making their way towards their wagons to unpack their supplies, Trelawny approached Arthur. “Pardon me, Arthur, but would be willing to escort me back to Valentine.”

“Why?” asked Arthur.

“Oh, I just want some pleasant company. And, by no consequence, if the inn at Valentine gives me any grief about me not staying in my room last night and decided to take my luggage perhaps you could _persuade_ them to give them back to me.” the sharp dressed man said.

Arthur grumbled but agreed to escort Trelawny. As they both approached the horses Arthur heard his name being called and turned to see Sean coming up to them. When he reached them, the Irishman asked if he could follow them into Valentine. “Pearson told me that we need more canned goods. Apparently, the ones we have now are spoiled rotten.” he explained.

Arthur shot the young man a confused look. “But we just got those supplies two days ago?”

“Perhaps, but when he opened those cans—phew!” Sean recoiled, making a face as he recalled the god-awful stench that came from one of the cans that the camp cook had opened. He had never smelt anything so bad in his life. “Smelt as if those perishables went bad over a hundred years ago.”

Arthur frowned when he heard this. He was one of the people who had gotten those supplies from the general store in Valentine and the store clerk had assured him that all of the food was fresh. It seems, though, he had been lied to.

“Well gentlemen shall we ride?” asked Trelawny. He had already mounted Gwydion, his brown leopard coated Appaloosa.

Both men agreed with the English con man and soon both of them mounted their horses and rode out of the camp. As they began following the railroad tracks towards Valentine, Sean noticed something odd.

“Look at all the weeds on the tracks.” he called out. Stopping for a moment, all three of them observed the large amount of weeds that sprouted inside the track bed, some of the stalks almost two feet in height.

“Those weeds weren't there the other day,” recalled Arthur.

Trelawny wasn't so certain. “You're sure, Arthur?”

“Sure, I'm sure.”

“Do ya think maybe that storm last night might've caused this?” Sean asked.

“Maybe…” Arthur wasn’t an expert when it came to plants, that was more Hosea’s or Charles’ specialty, but he was confident that weeds don’t normally grow two feet overnight. Looking at his two companions he said, “C’mon. We’ll stop by the station and ask them about them weeds.”

The three men proceeded down the dirt roads leading towards the livestock town. Five minutes later, as they reached where the road crossed the tracks towards Valentine, all three of them saw something that instantly made them stop their horses.

What was supposed to be a small but bustling livestock town that was nestled within the gentle hills had been transformed into little more than a ghost town. Where there were once dirt lanes and roads that lead into the small settlement had been absorbed back into nature as grass, flowers and small shrubs reclaimed what they could. The once bright woods and planks that made the majority of the buildings had lost their sheen and had rotted in several places. The station, the heart that had provided materials, food and people to Valentine, had fallen to ruin with broken windows and rotten wood.

Sean could hardly believe his eyes. “What the…”

“Is—Is that…” Trelawny almost didn’t want to say it but his mouth opened before he could stop himself. “ _Valentine?!_ ”

Arthur didn’t say a thing. He just sat there, his jaw clench tight, but his eyes were wide with disbelief.

For a few moments nobody did anything. The three men sat on their horses just looking at the desolate town, unable to turn their gaze away from the sight. Eventually Sean broke the silence by asking with a shaky voice, “Wh-What should we do, Arthur?”

Arthur didn’t say a word. Both Trelawny and Sean noticed that their friend seemed to be completely still, almost frozen, by the sight in front of him.

Slightly irritated by the man’s silence, the Irishman spoke louder this time. “Arthur!”

Startled by the man’s outburst, Arthur jumped slightly in his saddle before he realized what his friends had asked him. Quickly apologizing the man looked back at the town for a second before turning back towards the two. “Let’s take a look around, find out exactly what happened here.” he said.

The three began riding down the semi-visible dirt road towards the main street of town. As they passed the decrepit buildings they could feel their spines tingle. Whether it was from fear or excitement they were not sure. Perhaps both.

As they reached the middle of the street, Trelawny noticed the hotel that he had stayed in—or rather what _used_ to be the hotel. There were several large areas where the paint has peeled off, the windows broken—whether by nature or by a person he couldn’t be sure—and the right side of the upper deck had collapsed. “Oh my…”

Arthur, seeing Trelawny's face drop, tried to lighten the mood. “Well…least you don’t need to worry about the hotel personnel giving you any grief with you staying with us last night.”

Suddenly, a noise broke the relative silence of the area. Arthur looked in Sean’s direction and he pointed towards the saloon. Pulling out his revolver, as he dismounted from Barkley he told Trelawny to stay with the horses while he and Sean investigated the noise. After entering through the front doors, revolvers drawn, both men cautiously moved through the building. When they reached the bottom of the stairs they heard the noise again.

“Sounds like it’s coming from upstairs,” muttered Arthur.

Quietly walking up the stairs the two men waited for a moment before they heard the noise again. “It’s comin’ from over there.” whispered Sean, pointing at one of the guest bedrooms.

Silently, they both stepped towards the door and Sean took cover on the right side of the door. Both men waited a moment before Sean gave Arthur a small nod. Stepping back, the brown haired outlaw kicked the door in. As he stepped into the room the man was met with the shrieks of a young man and woman.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Arthur muttered, his face red when he noticed the position both of them were in. Why is it that everytime he comes to this saloon he somehow walks in on two people in bed? He wondered if maybe it was karma playing a sick joke on him, as he placed his gun back in its holster.

The young couple straightened their clothes before standing to attention as Sean came up from behind the corner. The woman noticing the pistol in Sean’s hand, shrieked again and quickly hid behind the young man. “Don’t shoot us!” she pleaded.

“Yeah, man,” the young man said. Reaching into his right pocket he pulled out a small, leather-bounded case. “Here...I’ll give you all of my money. Just don’t hurt us.” However, before he could reach the case to pull the money out Arthur stopped him.

“Calm down, kids. We’re not interested in your money.” he promised, giving Sean a look to put his gun away. As the Irishman holstered his weapon, Arthur looked back at the two and noticed their strange attire.

The young man’s clothes, while similar to his own, consisted of a flannel shirt with blue jeans, the jeans held up by a brown belt. The buckle, he noticed, was a regular oval with three letters etched into it. “DSP” he silently read, wondering for a moment what that was supposed to mean, before dismissing it as nothing important. The man also wore some spectacles, though these were more blockier and darker than the kind he was used to seeing.

As he turned his gaze towards the young woman Arthur felt his face heat up. Unlike the dresses that he was used to seeing women wear, the young woman’s outfit left _very_ little to the imagination. The dress—if it could be called a “dress”—neglected to cover the woman’s arms, the front of it was cut in a way that gave everyone a _very_ good view of her cleavage, and the skirt of the entire outfit had an opening which showcase the woman’s long legs and her strange footwear, the heels of which were so thin and long Arthur wondered how the woman was still able to stand—nevermind _walk_ —with those on her feet.

For a few seconds nobody said anything. Then the young man nervously asked, “So...wha-what do you want?”

“Well, for starters, how about some information.” replied Arthur. “What are you kids doing here?”

Shivering slightly, the young man admitted that he and his girlfriend had attended a party in the woods the other night with a few of their friends and had gotten pretty drunk. Somehow, in their drunken state, they had wandered away from the party and had stumbled into the town and eventually found refuge in one of the saloon’s guest rooms. “We decided it would be a good place to hold up for the night. It had a roof, four walls, and nobody around. Now looking back...it probably wasn’t the best idea. Our friends are probably looking for us.”

Although the story was interesting—and hilarious in Sean’s mind—it still didn’t answer the question on both men’s minds. “So that answers our first question. But what happened to Valentine?” pressed Arthur.

“Valentine? Why do you want to know what happened in February?” the woman asked, confusion written across her face. Suddenly, her face became fearful again. “You're not stalking us are you?”

“No, we have not been... _stalking_ you.” Arthur said, sharing a confused look with Sean who mouthed the word “stalking”. Shrugging his shoulders at the outlaw, he looked back at the pair. “What does that have to do with Valentine?”

Seeing the looks both men gave each other, the man came to a realization. “You’re not talking about Valentine’s Day, are you?”

“Valentine’s Day?!” Sean exclaimed. “Are you daft, lad?!”

Before either Sean or the young man got into a shouting match, Arthur jumped in and asked,. “Look, we just want to know what happened to the town?”

“The town?” asked the woman, who had started to step out from behind her man. Suddenly, realization hit her. “Oh, wait...you guys were talking about this place. Huh? Never knew it had a name.”

“Well of course it has a name. Now, can you please tell us what the hell happened to Valentine and why this place looks abandoned?”

Before either of them could say anything the two outlaws heard Trelawny shout “Arthur! Sean! Get over here!”

Reacting quickly, both men ran downstairs and out the saloon’s doors with their guns raised. They were relieved to see that Trelawny seemed fine though he appeared quite pale. As Arthur approached him he noticed that Trelawny was also gripping something very tightly in both of his hands. “What’s going on, Trelawny?” he asked.

However, the man didn’t respond.

“Josiah?” When the man still didn’t respond Arthur began to worry. Something was obviously wrong with the con man but what it was Arthur wasn’t sure of.

It wasn’t until Arthur laid his hand on the Englishman’s shoulder that he finally got a reaction from his fellow gang member. However, he was not expecting for the man to shove what was in his hands into his face. He barely had time to grab the thing, sputtering a “What the hell!?”

“Read it, Arthur.” said Trelawny, his voice suddenly very quiet and meek. When the outlaw just stood there the man said, with more volume, “Read it, Arthur!”

Deciding to do as he was told, Arthur looked at what the con man had given him. It looked like an ordinary newspaper. “ _The New Hanover Gazette,_ ” he read. Before he could look at the newspaper more Trelawny startled him when he suddenly gripped Arthur’s right arm with a surprising amount of strength.

“Look at the date, Arthur! The date!” the man said frantically, pointing a shaking finger to the area.

Arthur, unsure of what was going on, looked where his friend was pointing.

Meanwhile, the red-haired thief noticed, as he leaned against one of the rotting support beams of the saloon, the two young people coming downstairs. “Where are you two headin’?”

“Back to the party. It’s probably over by now but our ride is still there.” the man stated.

Before Sean could say anything else, Arthur suddenly came up to them with a strange look that Sean’s never seen before. He watched as the Van der Linde gang’s enforcer shoved the newspaper that Trelawny had given him in the young man’s face. “Is this true?” he roared.

The two were startled by the man’s tone. “I’m sorry, what is—” the woman asked before she was interrupted.

“The _date_? Is the date true?!” pressed Arthur. Sean looked behind the man and noticed that Trelawny was also watching the scene, his face almost entirely pale.

Confused and a bit frightened, the young couple looked at the date before looking back up. “No, this isn’t the correct date.” the young man said.

“You're sure?” Tension began to leave Arthur’s shoulders and a little color began to return to Trelawny’s face.

However, the young man changed all that.

“Yeah, this is last month’s issue,” he said.

If he lived to be a hundred, Sean would never forget the looks on both men’s faces when they heard that. The paleness quickly returned to Trelawny and, for a moment, it seemed as if the con man was going to fall over before catching himself. Arthur, meanwhile, looked as if his whole body was shaking, his face dropping. But what really caught Sean off guard was the haunted look that had taken over the man’s eyes.

For a few seconds no one did anything. Then Arthur grabbed the newspaper out of the man’s hands and began making his way over to the horses. “Sean, Trelawny is riding with you. Tie his horse to your saddle and then follow me.”

Sean was surprised by the man’s actions. “What? Arthur, what’s this abo—”

“Now’s not the time, MacGuire! We have to go back and see everyone.”

“But what’s—”

“Now!” the brown-haired man roared, climbing onto Barkley.

Unsure of what was going on, the red-haired Irishman gave the young couple an apologetic look before doing as he was told. After securing his lasso around Gwydion’s neck and attaching the other end to Ennis’ harness Sean helped Trelawny sit on the back of his saddle before pulling himself up.

Together, the men rode out of town, leaving behind the stunned pair.

“What the hell was that all about?” the young man asked.

His partner only shook her head and sighed. “I honestly don’t know, Babe. I honestly don’t know.”

* * *

The ride back to camp was silent. Sean didn’t know what was going on but he did know that both men were definitely spooked and it had something to do with that bloody newspaper that Trelawny had found. Sean snorted as his eyes wandered towards the piece of paper that Arthur gripped in his right hand. Sometimes he wished that he could read just so that he knew what exactly got these men all stirred up.

As they approached the trees bordering the camp Sean heard the sound of a loaded shotgun followed by his beloved Karen’s voice shouting, “Who’s there?”

“It’s us, darlin’.” called Sean.

Before Karen could return the sentiment Arthur raced passed her and headed straight for camp. Shooting Karen an apologetic look, Sean followed the man towards the hitching area.

Arthur wasted no time. As soon as he stopped his horse, Arthur began shouting for Dutch before spotting the man sitting in his tent. Stomping towards the gang leader Arthur paid no attention towards the curious looks he got from the rest of the camp as he made his way.

Placing his book down, Dutch stood up as Arthur approached him. “Arthur what’s wrong?” Looking back towards the horses he was surprised to see Sean helping Trelawny off of his horse, the English con man looking almost as pale as a sheet. “What’s Trelawny doing back here? Did you fellas run into trouble at Valentine?”

Arthur snorted before forcing a small laugh from his mouth, making Dutch—and the rest of the camp, who had gathered around to see why Arthur was acting so strange—feel uneasy, before saying, “Oh there’s trouble alright. But not in Valentine—because there ain’t no Valentine left!”

“What?” Hosea asked, concern clear in his voice.

“You heard me, old man. We went down there and the entire place was half-rotted and abandoned. Ain’t nobody was living there anymore.”

“Are you crazy, Morgan?” Bill asked. “Ain’t no way a town becomes abandoned overnight.”

“As much as I hate agreeing with him, Bill’s right, for once.” muttered John. Bill looked over at the man with a surprised look on his face before returning his attention back towards Arthur.

Before anyone else could say anything Sean spoke up in Arthur’s defense. “Well, if he’s crazy then so is me and Trelawny ‘cause we saw what he saw—the place looked like a ghost town, with neither hide nor hair of anyone livin’ there anymore.” Trelawny, although still pale and silent, nodded his head.

As everyone tried to process this, Arthur surprised them once again when he said, “The place was abandoned, Dutch. But...the thing is, Bill’s also right—Valentine didn’t just become abandoned overnight.” Lifting his right hand, he showed Dutch the newspaper he held. “Look at this.”

Grabbing the newspaper out of the man’s hand, Dutch’s eyes roamed across the edition before his eyes suddenly caught what both Arthur and Trelawny saw. Wide-eyed he looked up towards the outlaw. “What is this?” he whispered.

“That—” Arthur said, pointing a finger at the newspaper in his father-figure’s hands. “Is apparently last month’s edition of the _New Hanover Gazette._ Me and Sean ran into a couple and they told me it was last month’s goddamn newspaper. And Dutch”—looking directly in the man’s eyes—“they weren’t lying.”

Dutch became pale as Arthur spoke. Looking back at the newspaper he quietly muttered, “But...then that means…”

“Oh, for crying out loud! What are you guys talking about?” Uncle yelled. The rest of camp shared the man’s sentiment.

Both men looked over the group that had gathered around them. Seeing the questioning looks on their faces, Dutch sighed before sparing one last glance at the newspaper. “You lot had better sit down for this.”

“Why? What does it say, Dutch?” Hosea asked.

Breathing deeply, the gang leader looked up, a strange look overcoming his eyes before he spoke.

But nothing could prepare them for what came out of his mouth.

“If what Arthur says is true...then, we’re no longer in June of 1899. We’re in May…May of 2019.”


	3. I (Don't) Have a Plan...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I do not own either Red Dead Redemption or Red Dead Redemption 2. Everything in those games belong to Rockstar Games.

“A hundred and twenty years! A hundred and twenty years!” Bill shouted at the top of his lungs while walking around the camp in a bit of a daze.

“We heard you the first ten times, Mr. Williamson.” Miss Grimshaw said, annoyed by the man’s non-stop rambling. However, her words fell on deaf ears as Bill continued to repeat the statement.

Watching the entire scene from his spot around the camp’s main firepit, Arthur could only sigh. While he shared Miss Grimshaw’s annoyance at the man’s ranting he also understood that Bill was just trying to come to terms with Dutch’s announcement. _Hell, I feel like I need to yell a bit to._ He thought as he looked at the gang.

Susan and the women were sitting quietly at the poker table with various degrees of shock, disbelief, and sadness dominating their faces. Javier laid against a tree, his guitar laying in his hands, fingers twitching but he hesitated from playing a cord, which was a first for Arthur. Near the chuckwagon Sean, Kieran, and Pearson were grouped around the table used for cooking. Arthur watched as Pearson, after a tense moment, grab a case of beer from the back of the wagon and began pulling a few of the bottles out and laid them out in front of them, grabbing one for himself. However, before he could bring the bottle to his lips, Sean knocked the bottle out of his hand, much to everyone’s surprise.

Pearson was startled. “What was that for?!”

Arthur watched as Sean—a man that almost everyone knew preferred nonstop drinking and brawling while wearing a large grin on his lips—had a serious look on his face, something that Arthur didn’t know the Irishman was capable of. “The cans.” he said.

“What?”

“Remember when ya open’d them earlier this mornin’. They were spoiled rotten. Like they’d been rottin’ fer a hundred years o’ so.”

“More like a hundred and twenty,” Kieran mumbled, his voice hoarse. To Arthur it reminded him of how the former O’Driscoll used to sound when they had him tied to the tree: dry and scared. A feeling that Arthur could definitely relate to right now.

Pearson looked at them. “So?”

“So, if what was in those cans were somehow affected by us... _travelin’_ here what do ya think chances are that the beer’s just as spoilt?” Sean asked, surprising not only them but the rest of the gang with his reasoning. None of them have seen this side of him before.

Pearson, after getting over his surprise, looked down at the bottle he was about to drink from before sighing, dumping the contents of it at his feet before doing the same for the rest of the bottles.

Turning away from them, Arthur’s gaze landed on the forms of Trelawny, Uncle, and Swanson. They each had haunted looks on their faces, though Trelawny’s was much stronger and seemed to carry an aura of sadness. Swanson, he noted, had begun to take out his vial of morphine when Uncle put his hand on the man’s shoulder. Looking up the former clergyman stood completely still as his eyes never left the form of Uncle. After a few seconds, Uncle slowly shook his head no and released his grip on Swanson’s shoulder. Arthur was stunned when the religious man frowned before dumping the morphine to the ground, never taking his eyes off the spilling contents until it had all spilled out of the vial. _Guess some good came out of this whole mess._ Arthur thought.

Turning his head the other way, Arthur felt his insides turn cold when he saw young Jack and Abigail. The normally-bright four-year-old clung to his mother, his body shaking with fright, as frightened tears streamed from his eyes. Looking down at her son, Abigail tried to soothe Jack’s worries and appear strong for him, though Arthur noted that her eyes held just as much worry and fear as her boy.

As his gaze shifted slightly, the enforcer noted that John stood by leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. To anyone else, whether they be a complete stranger or a member of the gang, it might’ve looked like John was trying to distance himself from his small family however Arthur noticed the man’s gaze never shifted from Abigail and Jack. Arthur could only sigh at the man’s actions. He may not be the most observant but he could tell that John was struggling. Despite his words and manners in the past, it was clear to Arthur that John cared about the two but was being an idiot.

For a few moments he just sat there watching until he felt a presence approaching the fire. Turning his head he saw it was Strauss, gripping his accounting book in his right hand. “Herr Strauss.” he greeted.

Strauss didn’t acknowledge him. Sitting down next to Arthur, the Austrian began flipping through his book, peering at the pages with all of his writing. Arthur watched, unsure of what was going on in the man’s mind, when suddenly the man began ripping pages out of the book and throwing them into the fire. The two men watched as flames ignited the pages. Looking up, Arthur thought he saw something flicker in the man’s eyes as the pages burned, though what it was he couldn’t really say.

Before he could say anything, he heard his name being called. Looking back he saw Hosea had just come out of Dutch’s tent and was looking at him. Getting up, he approached the con artist. “Hosea.” said Arthur.

The older gentleman took a second to look back before looking at Arthur. “Do you think maybe you could try and talk to Dutch?”

“Is he alright?” Arthur asked with concern.

“I honestly don’t know.” Hosea sighed. “Molly and I have been trying to get him to speak but he’s been as silent as the grave. He just keeps looking at that newspaper you brought in from Valentine.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?”

“Just try and talk to him, son. Both me and Miss O’Shea have tried our best but that man just won’t budge. I’m hoping that you might have better luck while I check on everyone. Hopefully Charles and Lenny will be back soon with some news.”

As the man was about to walk away Arthur had to ask. “You sure it was a good idea to send them out scouting the area?”

Hosea once again sighed. “I honestly don’t know, Arthur. But Charles has proven capable of looking after himself and Lenny, well...when it comes down to it, he’s as tough as you were at his age. Still...one never knows.” With those words, he walked off towards the table where the women were sitting at.

Turning his attention towards the flaps of the tent, Arthur gazed at them for almost a minute before sighing. Steeling himself for whatever might happen, the man gently pushed the fabric far enough to create an opening.

Walking inside, Arthur was immediately greeted by the sight of Molly trying to gain Dutch’s attention by rubbing his shoulders, however she was having very little success. The man in question just sat at the foot of his bed holding the newspaper close to his face, seemingly absorbed by whatever articles were printed on it.

Looking up from her position, Molly’s face brightened when she saw Arthur. “Oh, Arthur, thank goodness.”

“Molly.” Arthur nodded. “You mind if I might have a word with Dutch?”

“Of course not,” she said, relief clear in her tone. While she believed she could get through to the gang leader given enough time, she knew that in this situation there were only three people who could possibly get Dutch to open up and speak his mind. And since Mr. Matthews had rode off and John Marston was not around, Arthur was their best choice. Getting up, she looked back at Dutch for a moment before leaving to give them some privacy.

After the flap had closed behind the redhead, Arthur looked at the man who was almost like a father to him. His fingers gripped the pages, his face almost touching the paper’s surface as he peered closely at the words within the article.

For a moment nothing but silence filled the tent before Arthur decided to speak first. “Dutch.” he said quietly.

The gang leader, however, didn’t respond.

Sighing to himself, Arthur made his way over to the cot and sat next to Dutch, who seemed too absorbed in what he was reading to acknowledge the man’s presence. Taking a moment to study Dutch, Arthur wondered what he could say to get the man’s attention and talk to him. Looking at the newspaper, he decided to try a different tactic. “Reading anything...interesting?”

The reaction wasn’t instantaneous but Arthur’s words managed to get a bit of a reaction out of Dutch. The man looked up from the newspaper and turned to face his visitor. “Arthur?” he acknowledged.

His voice sounded about as dry as Cholla Springs to Arthur, but for the moment the man didn’t care. He was just glad that Dutch was talking again.

“Have you read this?” Dutch questioned, gesturing to the newspaper. When he saw the younger man shook his head, the gang leader handed him the paper. “It’s mostly a bunch of nonsense. People speculating about what the President is doing behind their backs and backroom deals with other countries. Gossip about celebrities, who got in bed with who and which ‘celebrity couple’ divorced recently. Then there’s this stuff about these...I guess they're moving pictures, though today folks call ‘em ‘movies’. They talk about how they rate on some sort of tomato scale—don’t ask—and how people are arguing about every little detail, what should’ve been changed...stuff like that.”

“Sounds like the world is even more messed up than it was back in...well, in our day.” Arthur muttered, his eyes roaming across the pages.

Dutch snorted. “No doubt.”

As he read one article after the next, a thought crossed Arthur’s mind. “Hell, I bet if he were here, Micah would probably enjoy this new century.”

“Maybe…” Dutch admitted before his eyes widened. He had completely forgotten about Micah. Looking up at Arthur, he asked, “You don’t think that he might’ve…”

“Hmph?” Peering down at his elder, it took a second for his words to cross through Arthur’s mind. For a moment, he considered the man’s words before shaking his head. “If you mean that he might’ve followed us, I don’t think so. Besides, if he had he should’ve rode in on Baylock hours ago.”

Dutch looked as if he wanted to say something before he considered the man’s words. He couldn’t deny that Arthur had a good point. If Micah had somehow followed them to this new century he would’ve most likely rode back as fast as possible to meet with them. From what Arthur had mentioned, the outlaw had a camp hidden near Strawberry. If what had happened to them had happened to him, it wouldn’t take him long to ride back on Baylock. An hour, maybe two hours at most.

“I...suppose your right, Arthur.” conceded the gang leader, lowering his head for a moment. He would miss him. While everyone else might’ve seen him as a bit of a loose cannon and a maniac, Dutch felt that the man had a heart somewhere underneath all of his bluster.

Looking up from the paper, Arthur watched as Dutch sighed before rubbing a hand down his face, completely exhausted by all that had happened. Before he could say anything the man had beaten him to it.

“Before you ask, I’m alright. Just—it’s a lot to take in. One moment we were sitting here, trying to endure that storm, and now…”

“I understand.” sympathized Arthur.

“No, son, you don’t.” Seeing the confused look on Arthur’s face Dutch sighed, turning his head away so the man couldn’t see his expression. “Back...back there, back in 1899...I always managed to come up with a plan...a way for us to continue living, if only a bit longer, until we found a way to escape the law and be free. But now…” Looking back towards Arthur, the gang enforcer was surprised by the defeated look in Dutch’s eyes. “I-I don’t have a plan, now. Not a single goddamn _plan!_ ” he said, hanging his head in shame.

Arthur looked at the man with his head down with surprise. For twenty years, ever since both he and Hosea picked him up and basically raised him, Dutch always seemed to have a plan. To hear the man say that he doesn’t have a plan was something that he didn’t expect to hear.

“You’ll find a way, Dutch. You always do.” encouraged Arthur.

Dutch looked unsure. “I...Arthur…”

Before he could get any more words out both men heard horses approaching the outskirts of the camp followed by the voices of Charles and Lenny talking to Hosea. Putting the newspaper down, Arthur and Dutch looked at each other for a moment before making their way out of the tent.

Charles had just finished tying Taima to a hitching post while Lenny was having an in depth conversation with Hosea when both men walked out of the tent. Looking towards them the man gave each a brief nod. “Dutch. Arthur.”

“Charles.” Arthur acknowledged. “What did you find?”

Charles sighed, shaking his head in the process. “You two might want to sit down,” he gestured towards the table they sometimes use to play dominoes. As both men approached the table Charles pulled out a map from his pocket and laid it out on the flat surface. He waited for Arthur and Dutch to sit down before pulling out a pencil and began making drawings on the paper. “We rode out towards Valentine first to see if we could learn anything before following the tracks east towards the oil fields. It was there we discovered that the refinery had been abandoned, and from the looks of the place it had been neglected just about as long as Valentine was.”

“After talking with Lenny, I think I have an idea why. You see, at some point the oil must’ve dried up and the factory was shut down when it couldn’t pump and refine any more.” Hosea commented, standing to Charles’ right. “And when the factory shut down Valentine soon followed. Not counting farmers or travelers, most of the population worked at the factory and when it shut down they were forced to find work elsewhere.”

“Makes sense.” muttered Dutch.

“We also discovered that a new line had been added.” Lenny said, briefly taking the pencil from Charles’ hand to mark where the line was. “Guess the people in charge of the railroad decided it would be better for the trains to no longer pass by a deserted livestock town so they had a shortcut built. It splits off left of Citadel Rock until it reconnects just before the crossing to Twin Stack Pass.”

Looking at the new addition, Arthur’s eyes widened. “That’s just outside of our camp.”

“Yeah.” nodded the dark-skinned youth before handing the pencil back to Charles. “We saw the other set of points as we followed the line. How come you guys didn’t notice it, Arthur?”

“We used a different route when we left that eventually caught up to the railroad but we must’ve gone past the points without even knowing it. Same thing as we were coming back.” Arthur explained.

“While this is interesting, what else did you find?” Dutch pressed, starting to get a little impatient.

“We went south for a while,” Charles stated, tracing their route on the map. “Following the rails until we crossed over into Scarlett Meadows. Ten minutes later we were on a hill overlooking the outskirts of Rhodes.”

“And boy was it a sight, Dutch!” Lenny stated, looking excited. “I remember when it was just a small town nesting off the coast of Flat Iron Lake. Now, it’s easily three times that size, with buildings, stone roads, and funny, horseless carriages.”

This caught Arthur’s attention. “Horseless carriages?”

“Yeah! Arthur, folks were getting into these strange carriages that had no horses pulling them but were much faster than any of our horses. Hell, I’ll bet not even The Count would be able to catch up to them.” He said, his attention focused on Dutch. The Count was a white Arabian horse that was Dutch’s personal stallion and would only allow Dutch to ride him, bucking anyone else who attempted to saddle him.

Arthur and Dutch shared a look before turning back to face the two. “We’ll talk about that later.” Arthur said, before asking, “You got anything else to add?”

“Not much.” Charles admitted. “We kept riding for a bit, getting the lay of the surrounding lands, before coming back.”

For a moment no one said a word as they digested both men’s findings. Then, finally Arthur sighed, crossing his arms over his chest before looking at the two. “Well...it’s something, at least.”

“Indeed it is.” Dutch quietly said, his voice almost a whisper. “Good work.”

With that, the gang leader stood up and made his way back to his tent before closing the flap behind him.

Sighing at the man’s actions, Arthur shook his head before turning back towards the three gang members. The man’s eyes fell on the second youngest member of the gang. “Lenny, you think you can go and check on Mr. Pearson? He probably needs help sortin’ what hasn’t been spoilt by whatever happened to us and what we can still eat.”

“Sure, Arthur.” With those words, the youth left the table to check with the camp cook to see how much food was still edible.

When the young man had left, Arthur turned his attention to Hosea and Charles. Immediately the elder among them inquires, “So, how is he?”

Sighing, Arthur shook his head before pinching the brim of his nose. “He’s struggling, Hosea. This whole thing...I’m honestly surprised that he hasn’t crumbled under the weight of all this.” he admitted.

“Can’t really blame him,” Charles commented, “First Blackwater, then that thing with the O’Driscolls, and now this.”

“It’s more than that.” Arthur said, whispering so that only those two could hear him. “Spoke with Dutch to see if he had any plans but he said that he hasn’t a single one.”

Both men’s eyes widened and their brows rose. Along with his charisma, what made Dutch an excellent gang leader was his ability to conceive and execute plans for the gang. Like a general, he would consider their options carefully, planning every step until it all fell into place, before ordering his men into battle. Barring the incident in Blackwater and the original plan to rob Leviticus Cornwall’s train, most of Dutch’s plan had been successful.

Hearing that their leader, the man who almost preached that he had a plan every chance he got, did not have a plan—or even the beginnings of one—was shocking.

“So...what are we gonna do?” Charles asked after a small silence blanketed them for a moment.

Both Hosea and Arthur looked at each other. While Hosea had seniority and was pretty good at coming up with plans himself, Arthur was the gang’s enforcer and, despite seeing himself as more of a do-er than a planner, when push came to shove he was not too bad with coming up with plans of his own. After a few seconds, Hosea gave the man a nod, silently telling Arthur that coming up with a plan—or the start of one—would be his responsibility.

Shifting his gaze, Arthur peered down at the map and examined the markings that both Charles and Lenny had made. After a few seconds he looked up at both men, a small spark present in his eyes. “Charles, you and Hosea stay here. Help out around the camp and tend to anyone who might need help. Maybe start with seeing what Pearson might need in terms of food. If needs be, hunt or go down to the river and catch some fish. I’ll take Lenny and John and we’ll ride to Rhodes. Try and learn as much as we can, see if we can find any information on what happened to us, before coming back.” he said.

Hosea smiled. “Sounds like a plan.” he said with Charles nodding his head in agreement.

After saying a few more words, Arthur parted from the two men and made his way over to where Lenny was, telling him of the plan, before approaching John. The man leaning against the tree noticed Arthur walking towards him but didn’t make any movements. When the enforcer finally stood a few feet from the man John finally acknowledged him with a simple, “Arthur.”

“Martson. Gonna need you to come with me.” Arthur said simply.

John’s eyebrows rose a bit but the rest of his face remained impassive. “Where’re we headin’?”

“Rhodes.” Arthur answered before explaining his plan to John. For his part, John seemed hesitant in riding with Arthur before agreeing to go with them.

Walking towards the stalls, the men checked their horses before mounting them. However, as they were getting ready to leave, Sadie walked over to them. “Where are you fellas running off to?” 

“Rhodes. Gonna see if we can find some answers or somethin’.” replied Arthur. “Why?”

“Was wondering if maybe I could ride with one of you for a bit.”

Her words took the group by surprise. “You want to ride with us?” Lenny asked.

“Yeah.” the woman said, nodding her head.

Arthur shook his head. “ I don’t know if that’s a good—”

“Listen.” Sadie interrupted, glaring at the three horsemen. “I am sick and tired of playing the good little missus with roses in her hair and baking cherry pies all day. If I am kept here any longer and forced to continue working under that sweating, fat fool I’ll take that goddamn meat cleaver he holds in his hand and skin him with it myself!”

“Here’s hoping,” John muttered, rolling his eyes.

“John!” Lenny cried.

“Alright, you two, knock it off.” Arthur grunted, looking down at Sadie. He could tell that the woman was serious from her poster and the flaming glare in her eyes. In his mind, she almost reminded him of a barrel of gunpowder with a lit fuse, dangerous and ready to blow up at any moment.

After thinking about it for a few seconds, the man came to a decision.

“Alright. You can ride with me.” he said, praying that he wouldn’t regret this.

The young woman had a look of triumph on her face as she settled onto Barkley. After making sure that she was in properly, the small group made their way out of Horseshoe Overlook and began their long trek towards the town of Rhodes, each person wondering what exactly they’ll find out there in this new century.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> This story is one I wrote on Fanfiction over a year ago...God, I can't believe its already been that long. So many things have happened since I last posted anything, my new job included, and with all of this Coronavirus stuff and the protests all over America...well, you get the idea. Hopefully now, I might be able to get back on track. But we'll see...
> 
> Normally, I don't talk (or write) about current events or problems in my Fanfiction, but today I will make an exception. I am truly disappointed with everything that's been happening lately. People are scared, and rightly so. If the thought of catching this virus is frightening, then the news about the riots must really make them want to crawl under their beds.
> 
> Just to state right here and now, while I do agree with the protestors emphasis on racial equality and fighting against police brutality, I am not a supporter of them going out and destroying cars, breaking into stores and looting everything that's not nailed down, and throwing firecrackers into crowds. Martin Luther King Jr. and Gandhi were able to get their messages about peace and equality without the use of violence, and I want to believe that we can to.
> 
> As someone once said, "If you fight with hate than the only response you'll get is more hate. But if you fight with love, eventually, people will respond with love." Now that might sound like a load of poop to some of you, but I like to think there is some merit to these words.
> 
> And in regards to this Coronavirus stuff...as a person who was diagnosed with the Swine Flu during the 2009 pandemic I understand the fear. I know a lot of folks are worried and the death tolls they show on the news doesn't exactly calm the minds of the people of the world. But, as long as we stick together, while doing everything in our power to stay save, then I truly believe that humanity as a whole will get through this together. We managed to get through the Swine Flue Pandemic, so this Coronavirus shouldn't stop us as well!
> 
> Thank you all, and I hope that together we'll all get through this.


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